


marjorie

by jaracens



Category: X Company (TV)
Genre: A little canon compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, alfora, but kinda, but not really, im so sorry, this is just straight up pain, this is so painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaracens/pseuds/jaracens
Summary: aurora is haunted by her past.
Relationships: Alfred Graves/Aurora Luft
Kudos: 3





	marjorie

**Author's Note:**

> okay, i am very aware that i am late to the x company fandom, but here i am, bringing pain.
> 
> i was inspired to write this when i was listening to marjorie by taylor swift, hence the title. 
> 
> anyway, have fun reading this pile of pain.

Aurora woke up on her own in the cold bed. It’s been six months, and yet the sensation of waking up alone was still odd to her. She missed the warmth of a body next to her. Before she pulled herself out of bed, she found herself looking at the spot in the bed where Alfred used to lay. She squeezed her eyes shut as memories of the last six months came flooding back to the front of her mind. Memories of the last few days in France, where she had helplessly watched Alfred get shot in the back. Shot in the back trying to protect her because she let her guard down for _one goddamn minute_ , and it had resulted in another unnecessary death. Another unnecessary death because of her. The fear and pain on his face when he collapsed forward, into her arms, would haunt her until her final breath.

She knew, in the back of her mind, that Sinclair had been right about the risks of her getting involved with Alfred while out on the field. She should have known the consequences of giving into temptation, and if she had just _listened_ , Alfred would be there beside her, now, looking up at her with those gentle eyes. The eyes that never seemed to judge her, no matter how cold or brutal she had to be to help end the war.

Aurora squeezed her lips together in a weak attempt to suppress the sob that was threatening to escape from the back of her throat. She pressed her fingers to her lips in another weak attempt to stop choked sobs from erupting out of her mouth. Her fingers were hard and calloused after years of training at Camp X and from being out on the field. 

When she looked at her hands, she could only see the hands that killed René, the hands that had guided Sabine Faber down the streets of France, the hands that had expressed her love for Alfred in small and gentle touches of affection that would go unnoticed. The hands that had been stained red by Alfred’s blood as she had frantically tried to keep him alive as he bled out in her arms.

Part of her wished that her hands weren’t her own. She wished she could blame all of the horrible things they have done on Helene Bauer, and that her hands were still soft and gentle, like Sabine’s.

After long moments of trying to pull herself out of her thoughts, Aurora pulled herself together and got out of bed. She needed to go to whatever hairdresser’s was open to keep her identity hidden since the Nazis knew what she looked like.

As she pulled up her skirt and blouse, she missed the feeling of Alfred’s gentle hands on her back as he zipped up the back of her dress. She shuddered at the thought, and the ghostly feeling of his hands touching her skin through the silk of her blouse.

She studied her face as she brushed her hair before she left. Her blonde curls framed her rectangular face in the ways they always did, but she couldn’t help but notice the deepened frown lines near the corners of her mouth. Her eyes almost looked glassy from the lack of sleep that was caused by the never ending nightmare of Alfred dying over and over in her arms. Her skin seemed paler, and she looked sickly. Her high cheekbones protrude more, and her face looked narrower than before. She almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. The face that was looking at her reflection was someone who was haunted by Helene Bauer, by the death of not just one, but four friends. The face of a woman who would be expected to get married and have children once the war eventually ended, even though she really had no interest in either since she lived in constant fear of losing everything good in her life. The face of a woman who lost everything she ever cared about. The face of a woman who was tired.

She rose from the stool in front of the mirror, letting her hair fall plainly down the sides of her face. She made her way out of her hotel room, locking the door behind her. She almost instinctively reached to take Alfred’s arm, before realizing that there was no arm for her to grasp. No comforting presence beside her as she made her way down the street. No person to be the focus for, or, for her to focus on.

*

She knew that the women working in the salon were only trying to be conversational as they did the client’s hair, and Aurora was trying her best to keep her cool as the woman doing her hair, Alice, kept asking her personal questions that nearly brought her to the edge of tears.

“So, are you married?” The small raven haired woman asked as she snipped away at Aurora’s curls.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “No, no. I’m not.”

Alice seemed satisfied with that answer, which Aurora silently thanked God for. She almost said yes, almost mentioned Alfred, and how they had filled both their heads with dreams of marriage and a family after the war during one sleep deprived night of huddling together in the woods of France.

She tried to keep her answers short, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but Alice seemed to miss her attempts at just trying to get this appointment over as soon as possible.

She was grateful that the process of dying her blonde hair to a deep brunette was relatively quicker than the process of cutting the long strands of her hair. When Alice rinsed and dried her hair, she was allowed to inspect her hair in the mirror.

“Whaddya think?” Alice asked, clearly proud of her work.

Aurora stared at her reflection. Her hair still had some length to it, and she thought that the new dark color suited her. She knew that the Germans wouldn’t be able to recognize her from afar, so she knew that the last two hours were worth it.

“I love it.”

*

Five months after the war ended, Aurora found herself standing back in the woods of France. She had this location memorized, and she found herself standing over a grave that was a little further than the mass grave that the other victims of war had been buried in.

She never thought of herself as a particularly sentimental person, considering she could just drop whatever she had when there was danger. This time, though, it was different

She was trying to control the urge to break down into choked sobs as she stood over Alfred’s grave. She stared down at the mound of dirt that was nearly under the toes of her boots with her hands clenched to keep them from trembling.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” She started, cautiously, making sure no one was around to listen. “I just, I just thought that now that the war was over, I should come back.”

She didn’t know what she was expecting when there was no response. She knew there would be no response. Alfred was dead. That was that.

“The Allies, they, they won.” She tried to stop the tremble in her voice. “I was in Berlin for a while, I was there when the war ended.”

She chuckled tearfully. “My hair is dark now. I needed to change it for my new cover,” She paused. “My cover was as a woman named Marjorie Graves. The widow of a fallen soldier.”

She took a shaky breath. “You always said that my name could have been Marjorie. That’s why I took it. For you.”

She wiped some of the fallen tears that had escaped her eyes. “Well, I need to go. I have to get back to Canada.” She paused, before quietly murmuring, “I love you.”

She turned away from the grave quickly, hoping that she would be on her way to get on a plane that headed to Canada before she completely lost it. She made the mistake of looking behind her as she went, in some delusional hope to see a hand - Alfred’s hand - break the surface of the dirt mound at her words, dragging his body up from the shallow grave to follow her to Canada.

Her heart shattered when it didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed! let me know what you think!


End file.
